Sometimes you have to walk away from the fight in order to win it.
I need you to to know that it was always you who had my heart.
How the hell am I supposed to say goodbye to her tonight, knowing I’ll never talk to her again?
No one is likable from the inside out.
I want you to remember how it feels when I look at you.
It’s okay to feel whatever you need to feel. Just promise me that you will never, ever feel guilty. Promise me that you will never blame yourself. It’s not your fault. You’re just a little girl and it’s not your fault that your life is so much harder than it should be. And as much as you’ll want to forget these things ever happened to you and as much as you’ll want to forget this part of your life existed, I need for you to remember.
All I care about is you. Being with you every day. Seeing you every day. I’m not finished falling in love with you yet.
Maybe I don’t know the first thing about falling in love, because I’ve been telling myself I’m not falling for him yet. That it’s too soon. But it’s not. What’s happening inside my heart right now is way too consequential to deny.
And I hold her for so long, I have no idea if it’s still November 9th anymore or if it’s the 10th now. But the date doesn’t matter, because I’m going to love her through every single one of them.
Adults like to pretend that our feelings aren’t as big and important as theirs – that we’re too young to really know what we want. But I think what we want is similar to what they want. We want to find someone who believes in us. Who will take our side and make us feel less lonely.
I recently concluded that there’s no other explanation for how you and I could end up on the same planet, in the same species, in the same century, in the same country, in the same state, in the same town, in the same hallway, in front of the same door for the same reason at the exact same time. If God didn’t believe in me, then I’d have to believe you were just a coincidence. And you being a coincidence in my life is a lot harder for me to fathom than the mere existence of a higher power.
And I’m in love with her. Like, really in love with her. Crippling, debilitating, paralyzing love. So please accept my sincerest apologies, because she’s coming home with me tonight. I hope. I pray.
Our marriage hasn’t been perfect. No marriage is perfect. There were times when she gave up on us. There were even more times when I gave up on us. The secret to our longevity is that we never gave up at the same time.
I need her to admit that there’s an actual heart inside her chest. And that sometimes it beats for me.
A writer should never have the audacity to write about themselves unless they’re willing to separate every layer of protection between the author’s soul and their book. The words should come directly from the center of the gut, tearing through flesh and bone as they break free. Ugly and honest and bloody and a little bit terrifying, but completely exposed.
She’s like a light, unwittingly brightening up the darkest corners of a man’s soul.
It’s not a person’s actions that hurt the most. It’s the love. If there was no love attached to the action, the pain would be a little easier to bear. He.
All I want is for you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I’ll do anything to make that happen for you, even if it means helping you to forget me.
Stares shouldn’t have weight, but knowing his eyes are on me makes my steps feel heavier.
That’s what fifteen minutes can do to a person. It can destroy them. It can save them.